Bad Poetry
by WindowChild
Summary: Apollo writes haikus to express his undying love. OOC drabble of parodyness.


A/N: It's a drabble. Thus the brevity. Also, if you haven't read my work before, few of my stories are quite this stupid. I just felt like writing something stupid. Should the rating go up?

Apollo did not feel so cheery today. In fact, if anything, he felt a little glum. Why did people believe the gods had things so easy? Huh? Why was that?

He felt like going on public television, broadcasting the truth: things were just as tough on the gods as they were for everyone else.

Like this week, for instance. Because of the war and all, Apollo had volunteered to visit his sister and deliver a message. Well. Big mistake. Every time he met up with her and her little tribe, he was reminded that not every girl in the world was available to him.

In fact some girls – his sister's girls – were entirely _unavailable. _They were **celibate**. The word chimed in mocking slow-motion, making his head smart with godly frustration. Stupid unavailability. It just made girls _so _attractive. After all, Apollo could get almost anyone he wanted. It made the dating game – though still a joy, of course – rather ordinary. Celibacy brought a whole no obstacle in to play.

But now Apollo couldn't get them out of his head. Their bows and arrows… so sexy… never mind that he'd never found them sexy until now.

What should he do, though? It wasn't as if he could date them, not now. That would take too long. First he'd have to break their trust with his sister, then seduce them enough to make them forget all about their promises to Artemis. That could take days! Weeks! His hormones – because gods did have hormones, thank you very much – couldn't take that kind of wait.

He needed to forget about them, or else –

"I've got it!" He sat straight up, smiling with pride at the brilliance of his mind. "I can write poems about them!" The best of poets did that, after all. They drowned their feelings in words. And often alcohol. But he was a god, and alcohol didn't really do much. See? Gods really _did _have it tough.

"Hmm… but do I expression my love for them, or try to forget them with haikus of hate?" Haikus of Hate. It had an interesting ring to it. "Oh well," Apollo sighed, pulling paper from the drawer. "I'll write whatever comes to mind. Whatever I feel like."

He took out his favorite pen – one of those especially inky ones, that wrote in a deep blue – and pressed it forcefully into the page's corner. But nothing came. No ideas. What? Gods could get _writers' block_?

Well, there was only one cure for this, really. Glee. Chiefly annoyed, Apollo pressed all the right buttons on his remote and changed the channel to Fox. Ah, sweet relief. Two episodes later, Apollo felt a little better. Sure, the jokes and songs weren't quite god-worthy, especially not for the god of music, but they sufficed. The words started flowing again in his head, and he even managed to squeak out the first haiku.

Bianca

So dead and so cold

You had a cute nose and eyes

But you're Hades' child

Huh. Still not quite up to par. Who else was there? Well, there'd been that Zoe Nightshade chick, but she'd always scared him a bit. Far too much like his sister, really. It would practically be incestuous. Then there was Phoebe, but eh… she'd never stood out to him.

Oh! Of course! Thalia. The new girl. She wasn't really his type – too emo, honestly – but she sure was pretty. An besides, everyone knew angst made the best inspiration for poetry. Right?

Thalia

Shirt tight on your chest

I want to stick my -

"Apollo! What is that?"

He give a little jump of surprise and turned around, laughing in surprise. "Oh, Artemis, you startled me. What are you doing he – Hey!"

She'd taken the poem in her hands and was reading it a second time. "Apollo! You can't write erotic poetry about my huntresses! It's immoral!" She glared at him the way only she could do, but he did not recoil.

"This is hardly _erotic_, sister. You should _see _my erotic poetry, it's so much – "

Artemis made a gagging noise and folded her arms, ripping the poem to shreds as she did so. "Your mind is repulsive, brother. Goodbye."

Apollo slunk into the chair, irritated but relieved. There was no anecdote to a crush quite like his sexless sister.

A/N: Review away. Yeah. Again. Probably the dumbest thing I've ever written, but I've been watching stupid TV all day.


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